


Stupid Slytherin

by onceandforall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gryffindor!Dean, M/M, slytherin!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceandforall/pseuds/onceandforall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why is your last name Winchester if you can’t win at anything?” Castiel held the snitch in middle of his index finger and thumb, showing it off. “Seems kind of an ironic name too me.” </p><p>Dean huffed. “You know what’s ironic? Your family all being named after angels but ending up in the evil house anyways.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up convincing Bobby (No matter how many times that old man insisted that Dean had to call him Mr. Singer when on school grounds, it never seemed to stick in Dean’s mind.) to let him log in some extra practice hours at the fields. His O.W.L.s. were just around the corner, meaning the next morning, and he was supposed to be up in the Gryffindor common room studying, but here he was, cloak and scarf drawn close around him, stepping onto the quidditch field with his broom in hand.

 

The field was unsettling. It wasn’t exactly night, but the sun was making its descent and Dean estimated that he had about an hour before he would be engulfed in darkness. He really did not want to be on the fields when the sun went down. It was already creepy enough with the empty stands and the wind rustling through the goal posts. He could only imagine (and even then, he didn’t want to) the scariness factor darkness was going to impose.

 

However it was still light enough to see and Dean mounted his broom and flew into the air, cloak, scarf and all. He loved the feeling of being free, flying. It was one of the main reasons he started playing quidditch. When he was a kid he would stare out of the window and watch as the neighbors’ kids flew around on second-hand brooms and laughed as one of them got hit with a bludger, or listen as they cheered when the snitch was caught. Quidditch was always something fun for Dean, and he made sure that nobody could take it away from him.

 

His cloak flapped loudly behind him as he whizzed through the air. The passing wind stung his eyes, bringing tears to them, but he didn’t stop, instead he just pushed enough further, harder until he swore his broom was going to break. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he had worn through a broom, and it most certainty wouldn’t have been his last. That was for sure.

 

Dean stopped, breathing hard. He was already on the other side of the field. He turned around, trying to catch his breath. He looked down to the green field below him. Everything looked so small, so miniscule, as if he could pick anything up with the tips of his fingers and fling it around without even wasting a breath. The liberty he had, floating high in the sky with nothing to bring him down, was amazing. It was so much better than studying, that’s for sure.

 

“Winchester!” he heard a voice yell out. Dean looked down, startled and his broom moved with the impact, hurtling down towards the ground. For a moment Dean panicked, then his natural instincts kicked in and his pulled up on his broom, leveling himself out. He heard laughter from below him and he scowled.

 

“No, no! Don’t stop!” Another round of laughter, deep and accusing. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen all day! All week in fact!”

 

Dean flew down and landed next to the source of the laughter. He should have known; he could recognize that unruly mop of hair from anywhere. (Hell, he probably could recognize it with his eyes closed.) It was probably messier than his, and Dean had just killed the last couple minutes flying. That had to be an achievement of some sorts.

 

Castiel laughed again. “Why’d you stop? Afraid you’re going to fall?” He smirked wickedly. His eyes crinkled as he did so.

 

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Dean leaned against his broom. It felt weird to be back on the ground again, and his legs were a bit shaky. Not like he would admit that fact to Castiel. The other boy would just find it amusing and use it as more fuel to taunt Dean with.

 

“You seem to say that every time we meet.” Castiel threw something in the air, something small, shiny, and gold. It fell back in his hand with a soft thud. “Don’t you ever have something new to say?”

 

Dean scoffed, _why was this guy such a dick?_ Ever since their first year when they were assigned as partners in potions, Castiel had always looked down at Dean, rolled his eyes whenever Dean caught his eyes. From day one Castiel had just been a dick to him.

 

At first Dean blamed it on the fact that they were in rival houses. Slytherins and Gryffindors weren’t supposed to get along, right? But one day Dean saw Castiel talking to one of his fellow housemates and that excuse was ruled out of the book.

 

And then Dean put the blame on the fact that he wasn’t a pureblood (John, his father, was a muggle through and through. Dean always loved the story his mother told him about his father almost fainting when she had revealed that she was a witch. John was supposedly in shock for a few days, but came around to the idea. Mary knew he would. Dean’s mother knew John the best, even better than he did himself.) But then he realized that Castiel was a half-blood as well, leaving Dean utterly confused.

 

The only conclusion that he could come up with was that Castiel just hated Dean because he was Dean. Dean was left with no other option that to reciprocate the action.

 

Dean pouted his lips, mocking thinking. “I don’t know. How about maybe 'you’re an asshole?'” Dean winked as Castiel rolled his eyes in response. Castiel’s eyes were so blue, they seemed too impossible to be real. “That fits too.”

 

“You’re so dull," Castiel huffed. He threw the small object up in the air again, but this time instead of landing back in his hand, it floated right by his head. Its wings moved too fast to see, creating a blur of motion.

 

Dean’s eyes grew wide, a _snitch_. His fingers itched to grab the fast moving object, a seeker’s habit. “How’d the hell did you manage to sneak that out?” He pointed towards the snitch.

 

Castiel smiled and his eyes twinkled. (Since when in the hell did Dean think about twinkling eyes?) Castiel shrugged, his cloak flowing with his movements. “Doesn’t everybody have a little secret or two?” He cracked a smile and grabbed the snitch out of the air with a quick flick of his wrist. Dean had forgotten that Castiel too was a seeker, just for the Slytherin team.  _Damn those Slytherins with their cocky attitudes and ugly green scarves._

 

The wings folded in on itself as Castiel caught it. Dean wanted so badly to grab the piece of metal out of Castiel’s grip and- wait, what was Castiel doing out here in the first place? Castiel was the top student in their year and it made no sense for the smartest kid to be out on the quidditch field the day before their O.W.L.s. started. Castiel should be locked up in his common room, looking over his papers until his eyes were dry. “Cas, what the hell are you doing out here anyways?”

 

Castiel arched an eyebrow. It disappeared under the bangs of his hair. Dean didn’t know how the other boy could manage having it so long. But then again this was Castiel they were talking about, and when did anything about him make sense? “So I’m ‘Cas’ now?” The dark haired boy looked like he was biting back a smile.

 

Dean could feel heat swarming his face. He put the blame on the wind that had picked up, not the fact that he had let the nickname slip. It’s not like Dean called Castiel ‘Cas’ in his head in the first place. That would be ridiculous. “What? You really expect me to keep calling you Castiel?” Dean shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about the situation. “No offense or anything, but that’s a fucking mouthful to say every time.”

 

Castiel’s eyes lit up and he smiled, and not a leer that Dean usually received, but a real, genuine smile. It was a change, a good one. “It’s better than the other nicknames I’ve been called.” Dean started to say something but Castiel,  _Cas_ , pressed on. “But let’s not get into that conversation. How about a friendly game of quidditch?” And there was that smirk again, all condescending and brash. “But of course, just seeker against seeker?”

 

“You don’t have a broom.”

 

Castiel shook his head, as if saying  _'Stupid Winchester'._ He took his wand out of the folds of his robe. “ _Accio Firebolt.”_

 

A broom came flying towards them. Castiel caught it with practiced ease. He mounted it and took off his robe and scarf. He threw them roughly down on the ground in a pile of silver and green as if he didn’t need them anymore. Which, knowing Castiel’s background and the wealth their family had locked away at Gringotts, he probably didn’t need them. He probably had a different set of clothes for each day of the year _. Bastard._

 

Castiel nodded towards Dean’s broom, another Firebolt, but a little worn with use. The twigs were uneven and a few of them were cracked in places. The handle of Dean's broom was marred with scratches and sweat stains. Castiel’s broom was newer, cleaner looking, as if it had just come out of the box.  “Same broom. It’ll just be down to skill. You up for it?”

 

Dean didn’t have to think twice. He shed his robe and scarf as well, but with a little more care than Castiel had done. Dean needed his clothes to last the rest of the year, which wasn’t much, but he didn’t want to spend the last few weeks of his fifth year wearing ratty, grass-stained clothes. “Hell yes.”

 

Dean climbed onto his broom, fingers flexing against the hilt. He could feel his nerves rising, a tight coil about to burst. He always got like this before games, but this time it was a stronger reaction. Maybe it was because he would be going against Cas, and just Cas. There were no bludgers to dodge or score to keep track of. It would just be the first one to the snitch, nothing more, nothing less. (And if it had to do with the fact that Dean was going up against _Cas_ , Dean pushed the thought to the back of his head.)

 

He heard the buzz of the snitch before he saw it, the little golden ball growing smaller as it flew away from them. The sun was low in the sky and everything had an orange tone to it. It would have been pretty, but Dean was too busy trying to focus on the increasingly small ball of metal in the distance. At least Dean thought it was the snitch. He was losing the sight of it.

 

“On three,” he heard Castiel announced, smooth and soft. He turned his head to quickly look at the boy. His profile was nice especially in the orange light, but his eyes were squinted tight in concentration and his lips were pulled up into a pout. Dean looked back towards the field and he couldn’t find the snitch anywhere. _Great._

 

“One.”

 

Dean breathed in deeply, eyes scanning furiously.

 

“Three.”

 

Castiel was off before Dean even realized that the other boy had completely skipped over the second number. Dean quickly took off, the wind running besides his ears. He still had no idea where the snitch was, but Cas seemed to know where it was, so Dean stuck right behind him in hopes of getting a glance at the prize before the Slytherin.

 

Dean saw something flit in his peripheral vision. He turned on instinct, but Castiel had seen it too and was flying towards the source. Dean was hot on his heels (Was it still heels if they were in the air?) He leaned forward on his broom, trying to gain more speed, more momentum so he could pass the stupid Slytherin boy in front of him.

 

Castiel turned to the right suddenly and Dean followed his movements, jerking his handle to turn directions. Then suddenly Castiel stopped and Dean flew right into him. The impact knocked the wind out of Dean and he almost fell off his broom.

 

He heard Castiel’s laugh echo through the empty stadium as the other boy took off again.

 

_Douchebag._

Dean shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts before leaning over and flying after Castiel. He knew by now that Castiel probably already had the snitch, but it was still worth the try, right?

 

By the time he had caught up with Castiel, the boy was relaxing, swinging his dangling legs leisurely. Cas ran a hand through his hair and ended up just sticking it up even more. “Why is your last name Winchester if you can’t win at anything?” Castiel held the snitch in middle of his index finger and thumb, showing it off. “Seems kind of an ironic name too me.”

 

Dean huffed. “You know what’s ironic? Your family all being named after angels but ending up in the evil house anyways.”

 

“Stereotypes, Dean. Stereotypes. Funny, I pinned you to be above them. But then again you try so hard at the “macho straight jock” image. It’s pathetic, really.”

 

Dean locked his jaw, ignoring the insult. “You fucking cheated!”

 

“Did not,” Castiel said back immediately. What were they? Five years old?

 

“You almost made me fall off my broom. I’m pretty sure that’s cheating!” Dean felt his grip on his broom tighten with the growing urge to knock the other boy out of the air.

 

Castiel blinked slowly, looking bored. “Just because you suck at keeping yourself up in the air does not mean you can start putting the blame on the people around you. That’s not how it works.”

 

Dean threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, which just caused Castiel to start another round of laugher. Dean lunged at him, fists at the ready. But Castiel was probably ready for the swing, seeing as he moved away and dodged the attack without flinching.

 

Without anything to run into, Dean was off balance and he toppled off from his broom like a ragdoll. He reached blindly for his broom, but he couldn’t get a firm hold on it. He was rushing fast towards the ground and he could picture the conversation that was bound to happen.

 

_“And he just fell?”_

_Castiel rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I mean, he is kind of clumsy. Have you noticed?”_

He did hit something, but it wasn’t the ground. It was too soft and smelled all wrong. It didn’t smell like mud and sweat and blood, but instead smelled sweet, a bit like peppermint actually.

 

“Get back on your broom, Winchester,” said a deep voice. It took Dean a moment to recognize the voice as Castiel’s. “I’m surprised you’re broom can even hold you for so long. You’re heavier than you look.”

 

Dean gripped his broom, his grasp a little wobbly. He was a bit winded and he swore that his stomach was in his throat. At least it felt like it. “Fuck you, Cas.” His tongue was dry, sandpaper in his mouth. That fall (Could you even call it a fall if you never landed?) must have had really taken it out of him.

 

Castiel laughed. “You’ll have to take me on a few dates first, Dean. I’m not that cheap.”

 

“What?” Dean blinked.

 

Cas continued as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “I mean, we could go like to Honeydukes and you could buy me some candy, then I would _maybe_ think about getting into bed with you. Although butterbeer does sound pretty nice too.”

 

Dean almost fell off his broom again. “What?” he repeated.

 

“Jeez, you really are as dumb as you look.  Maybe the whole dumb ass jock stereotype thing you have going on isn't all an act,” Castiel scoffed, but his tone was light, teasing, not mocking. “Do I have to repeat myself?”

 

“No.” Dean shook his head. “But you called me Dean.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes so far back that Dean was afraid that they were going to pop out of his head. “Isn’t that your name, Winchester?”

 

Dean laughed softly. “You know what? Never mind.” He started his decent downwards and Castiel followed suit. “It doesn’t change the fact that you cheated.”

 

“I did not cheat!” Castiel jumped off his broom a few feet off the ground. _Show off._ He landed near his pile of disregarded clothes.

 

“Asshole,” Dean murmured. He landed on the ground by his scarf and cloak. It felt weird to have something solid underneath his feet again.

 

Castiel sighed. “So uncreative.”

 

“What word would you use then, Mr. Know It All?”

 

Castiel bit his lip, thinking. “Cunning,” he said after a moment. “Smart, resourceful, and of course you can’t forget handsome.”

 

“You’re an airhead.”

 

“Bravo, Winchester. Broadening your vocabulary. I’m proud.”

 

Dean leaned against his broom; it was a comfortable, natural position for him. “You know you never did answer my question.”

 

Castiel titled his head and Dean did not think it was adorable. “Your question?”

 

“Yeah.” Dean licked his lips. “Like what the hell are you doing out here the night before O.W.L.s.?”

 

A look of shook passed through Castiel’s face, but it was quickly smoothed back into its regular brand of cocky, but bored. “I don’t know. I found a snitch and decided to go out and play with it. You just happened to be here as well.”

 

Dean knew he was lying. “Yeah, you _found_ a snitch. I’m pretty sure the only way you could have _found_ a snitch is if you went through Bobby’s office.”

 

Cas rocked back and forth on his heels. It was weird seeing the Slytherin boy nervous. And the fact that it was Dean making him nervous was just an added bonus. “I might have convinced Mr. Singer to let me borrow a snitch.”

 

The story still didn’t quite add up. “But what about studying?”

 

“Dean, you can’t study every hour of everyday. You would fry your brain out.” Castiel sounded exasperated.

 

Dean smiled at the sound of his name leaving the other boy’s mouth.

 

“What are you smiling at, Winchester?” Castiel asked. It only made Dean smile bigger. “God, you are such an _asshole_.”

 

“Now look who’s the one with the limited vocabulary. Oh, how the tables have turned.” Dean started laughing and Castiel kicked the bottom of Dean’s broom out from underneath him. Dean caught himself before he hit the ground.

 

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you asking me so many questions, Dean?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe because this is the longest we’ve hung out since we’ve met? It’s fucking weird.”

 

Castiel flinched slightly, and Dean would’ve missed it if he had blinked. Good thing he didn’t. “You think I’m weird?” Castiel’s voice was missing the smug edge it always had.

 

“Sometimes, yeah,” Dean admitted. He quickly realized it was the wrong thing to say when a look of hurt flashed over the dark haired boy’s features. “Well, not really,” he backtracked, “like it was fun right now, even if you cheated.”

 

Castiel smiled and Dean called it a success. “For the last time, I did not cheat. Winchester, you are making stuff up. If it’s anything, you’re the cheater here.”

 

Dean gaped. “How the hell am I the one doing the cheating here? You know what, I demand a rematch.” Dean hopped back on his broom. “Loser has to buy the winner a round of butterbeers the next time we take a trip to Hogsmeade.”

 

“That sounds an awful lot like a date, Dean.” Castiel swung a leg over his broom. “You’re going to be paying for my drink after all.”

 

Dean did _not_ blush when Cas called it a date. “Full of yourself much?”

 

Cas winked. “Only when I know I’m going to win.”

 

“Just throw the damn snitch in the air, Slytherin. And this time count to three like a proper human being. Hurry, before it gets dark.”

 

“What ever you say, Gryffindor. And when I win, you have to buy me some chocolate frogs too. I almost have the complete collection.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, so um, couldn't really leave the verse alone. they're too cute not to write

“How do you think you did?” Castiel asked. He dragged his feet across the pavement, trying to slow down his pace. The blue-eyed boy wanted to be the last in the group. Dean and Castiel were walking shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but obviously together. They both had their sleeves rolled up their elbows. Castiel’s green and silver tie sat crookedly underneath his collar.

 

Dean’s hands were in his pockets, resisting the urge to fix Castiel’s tie for him. He shrugged. “It was kind of easy, really.”

 

Cas laughed. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Winchester.”

 

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean kicked a rock and sent it hurtling down the path. It hit a girl’s ankles and stopped. She hadn’t felt it. She was still probably on the high of getting out of class, everybody was at the moment. They had just finished their O.W.L.s. the day before; they were practically free until next September.

 

“It’s not an insult. I’m just saying that you are so much smarter than you allow yourself to be.”

 

Dean scoffed. “Yeah right. I’ll be lucky if a barely get through my classes with passing grades.”

 

“I highly doubt that that’s what’s going to happen.”

 

They reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade and students littered the village’s streets. “Where do you want to go?” Dean asked, trying to change the subject. “Three Broomsticks?”

 

Dean noticed that Castiel’s eyes were scanning the crowd, as if he was looking for somebody. It was the last trip to Hogsmeade of the year; the trains would be coming early tomorrow morning. Dean himself was already packed and ready to go. He had already said his goodbyes and made promises to see his friends over the summer, but maybe Cas still had loose ends to tie up before the year was over?

 

“Cas?” Dean asked again.

 

The boy in question shook is head, attention falling back to Dean’s face. “What? Did you ask something?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said slowly. “I was asking if you wanted to go to Three Broomsticks first?”

 

“Oh,” Cas said sheepishly. “Yeah sure. Let’s go.” Cas started walking before Dean had a chance to reply.

 

There were a shit ton of students in the Three Broomsticks when they got there. They barely snagged a table, and even then they only got it because Cas had scared off a group of third-years. Well, he didn’t really do anything to scare them, just had given them a cold, icy look and they ran off, drinks sloshing in their cups.

 

“How’d the hell did you do that?” Dean asked, practically doubling over in laughter. He slid into the booth and put his head down on the table, shoulders shaking in silent amusement.

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow and sat down in his respective seat. “Do what?”

 

Dean raised his head. “You know, scare off all those kids. Did you see the look on their faces? Priceless.” Dean smiled, his green eyes sparkling with laughter.

 

“I didn’t really do anything,” Castiel admitted. “I do think it has to do with the fact I’m wearing my house tie though.”

 

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that your family has a kid in each year?” Dean arched his eyebrows. “Nothing to do with that all of you are in Slytherin?”

 

“Slytherin isn’t a bad house, Dean,” Castiel huffed. “We posses all the same qualities as a Hufflepuff does, we just happen to think about things in a more cunning way than them. Besides, are you really one to talk?”  The dark hair boy smirked. “I mean, you are basically the epitome of a living, breathing Gryffindor, Winchester. You come with the entire package: green eyes, freckles, cocky attitude, and all.”

 

“Please, your whole family is in Slytherin. If that isn’t saying something than I don’t know what can,” Dean retorted.

 

Castiel just rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get us some drinks.”

 

Dean nodded his head and Castiel got up and started walking to the counter. He got lost in the other boy’s movements, the way he moved his hands when he talked, and the way his hair bounced as he walked. Dean didn’t notice that somebody had slipped into the seat next to him.

 

“You’re Dean Winchester, right?” a female voice asked.

 

Dean nearly fell on the floor, surprised. “Holy shit, give a man a warning next time. Jeez.” His eyes fell upon a bright redheaded girl. Her house tie was worn loosely around her neck, her white collar upturned and sleeves folded up. With the dark green of her tie and the vibrant red of her hair, Dean immediately thought that she looked like the Little Mermaid.

 

 (The only reason that he knew what the Little Mermaid was because his father had insisted that even though his sons had magical blood running through their veins, they should know some of what he called the “muggle classics.” To be honest, Dean never got the point of something so mundane, especially after his mother had shown him what actual real mermaids looked like. However Dean grew a bit fonder of a band that went by the name of _Led Zepplin_ and a movie series called _Star Wars_. He also loved cars; they made his brain think and made him marvel at the perspiration that was put into muggle technology.)

 

The girl coughed. “You are Dean Winchester?” she repeated.

 

“Who wants to know?”

 

“Shit,” the girl cursed, “you are an asshole like everybody says.”

 

“He’s not that much of an asshole when you get to know him,” said a deep voice. It sent shivers up Dean’s spine, but of course he would never admit to that. “Hello, Anna.” Castiel sat back in his seat, sliding a glass over the table to Dean. “I was looking for you earlier today.”

 

Anna smiled, a warm gesture, as if she wasn’t just calling Dean an ass moments ago. “Hi, Cassie.”   
  


“Please don’t call me that,” Castiel responded. He laced his fingers around his drink.

 

“Whatever you say, Cassie.” Anna laughed.

 

Dean sat back in his seat, watching the scene. His drink was untouched. “I’m guessing that you two know each other? But that’s just a shot in the dark.” He winked at the redhead. Hey, Anna was kind of cute. In a weird _I’m going to kill you in your sleep_ way.

 

“Cassie here is my little brother.” Anna reached over the table to ruffle her younger brother’s hair. Castiel batted her hand away with the back of his hand.

 

“Yes, unfortunately, we are related,” he spat. But he rolled his eyes in an affectionate manner afterwards, indicating that there were no hard feelings.

 

Dean stared at the two of them for a moment, and the similarities came into play. Of course, besides the fact that they were both wearing silver and green ties, they had the same lips that could curl up into a smirk at a moment’s notice. Albeit, Anna’s were smoother (no doubt she had lip gloss on at the moment as well, they were, in a sense, sparkling), while Castiel’s were more chapped. And their eyes _, holy shit._  They both had the same shade of blue eyes, which looked like they belonged in the sky, or encrusted in a piece of sand glass, shining brightly underneath the waves. But Anna’s were lighter, a summer breeze that cooled the nape of your neck, and Cas’s eyes looked like they belonged in the dead of night, the stars in them showcasing a thousand different stories in one glance.

 

Anna let of a soft chuckle and Dean realized that he was staring. She turned her head to talk to your brother. “Is this your boyfriend, Cassie?” she asked in a whisper, but Dean was so close to them that he could hear every word that they were saying. He felt a blush creep up on his face as the tried to whisper to each other.

 

Castiel was blushing too. He shook his head. “No, Anna. We’re just out getting drinks together.”

 

Anna raised her eyebrows. “That sounds an awful lot like a date, even by your standards. Remember that boy you went out with in your fourth year? I think is name was Crow…? Crowley! Oh that’s it.”

 

Castiel’s eyes went wide. “Oh, don’t bring that up. Not here, not ever,” he pleaded, his voice low.

 

“Cassie, you took him to the library as a date. A _library._ Who even does that?”

 

Dean cleared his throat. “You know I’m right here, and I can hear every word that you guys are saying.”

 

Anna huffed. “Whatever.” She got up and ruffled her brother’s hair once more. This time Cas didn’t object. “I’ll see you later, Cassie. Have fun on your _date._ ” She winked, and then disappeared into the busy crowd.

 

Castiel immediately apologized after his sister left, all traces of sass and wittiness gone from his voice. “I’m sorry about her. She’s a bit of a handful and likes getting her nose in things that she really shouldn’t.”

 

Dean shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. “It’s fine.” He took a sip of his butterbeer and was reminded of why he loved the drink so much. It burned the back of his throat but sent a warm, thrilling sensation throughout his body. “But I have to ask you a question.”

 

Castiel cocked his head. He took a sip over his drink. “Go ahead, ask away, Winchester.” And then there was the sass again. Dean was almost afraid it wasn’t going to come back for a second there. Castiel took another gulp of the amber liquid.

 

Dean smiled crookedly. “Did you really go out with that Crowley douche in fourth year?”

 

Castiel swallowed down the butterbeer, hard. “Yes. Don’t remind me about that.”

 

“Dude, but why?” Dean leaned across the table, his stomach hitting the edge of the small table. “He’s the fucking _king_ of dicks.”

 

“You know,” Castiel said, leaning in closer, “he reminds me of you a bit. Everybody thinks he’s a dick, but really he’s just a little boy that talks a big game.”

 

Castiel was so close that when he breathed out Dean felt the warm air ghost across his cheeks. Dean’s eyes quickly looked at the other boy’s lips, and Dean thought about how he should close the gap right then and there and seal their lips together. The dark haired boy was so close, and Dean had wanted to since, well since they were partners in their first year potions class. Dean really hadn’t admitted that to anybody, not even himself, really. 

 

But the moment was broken when Castiel pulled back. And the other boy even had the fucking _nerve_ to lick his lips as he leaned back in his chair. Castiel’s finger traced edge of his half-empty cup. “Finish your drink, Winchester. I’m craving chocolate, and I think you owe me some.”

 

And how could Dean say no to that?

 

* * *

  


 

Kids seemed to be everywhere; there were so many damn kids in Honeydukes, Dean felt like he was going to suffocate from oxygen loss. The smell of chocolate, sweet and sugar filled, was heavy in the air as Castiel tugged on Dean’s forearm, edging him deeper in the crowd.

 

“I didn’t know that they could cram so many people in here.”

 

“Well, it’s the last trip before break, Winchester,” Castiel replied, his voice almost lost in the sea of noise. A girl behind them choked on her jellybeans and Dean vaguely wondered which flavor she had gotten. He knew from experience that the troll bogey was the worst one to get, hands down. “Everybody year three and up is here trying to get the last few sweets in.” Castiel turned around suddenly, and Dean almost ran into him. Their chests were almost touching; they were even more squeezed together by the great amounts of people that were surrounding them. “Which is exactly what we’re doing here, right?”

 

Dean ran a hand along the back of his neck, almost hitting somebody in the process. There were just so _many_ people in here. “Yeah, right.”

 

“Great! The chocolate frogs are back here!” Castiel turned around again and started walking towards the area he pointed at. “Hurry, before they run out.”

  
Castiel was right about the hurrying, because by the time they got to the corner where the chocolate frogs were shelved, there were only a few left. Dean saw a few kids trying to pocket some of the boxes indiscreetly (obviously not doing the job well), but if Castiel saw them as well, he didn’t say anything about it.

 

Cas picked the last four boxes off the shelf and started walking back towards the register.

 

“Why the hell do you need so many?” Dean asked, trying to push his way past a tiny third year and a few of his even shorter friends. Was he this small during his third year? Or was it just that the kids kept seeming to get smaller and smaller every passing day? Dean shook his head, letting the thought pass.

 

“Why do you _not_ need so many?” Castiel shot back, not even bothering to look back in Dean’s direction to reply.

 

“Can’t you just get some on the train back as well?” Dean asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Everybody knows that they only give out the generic cards out on the train, Dean.” Castiel sounded exasperated.

 

“No. How the hell am I supposed to know that?” Dean questioned. “What the fuck does “generic cards” even mean? Aren’t they all the same; it’s chocolate for fucks sake.” 

 

“Yes, it’s chocolate.” Cas set his sweets on the counter, nodding his head when the lady behind it asked him if that was all he had. “But the cards inside are worth something. They have famous witches and wizards on them. That’s what makes them important.”

 

“You’re impossible,” Dean murmured. “They’re just goddamn collectable cards.” He fished in his pockets for his money. He laid the coins in Castiel’s palm and the dark haired boy in return put them on the counter.

 

“I’m just so close to having them all, ok, Winchester?” He thanked the lady, which Dean thought was weird because he had never seen Castiel thank anybody before. Didn’t that go against his cocky, bad boy persona that he had set up? Castiel took the bag out of the lady’s hand, thanking her again, and walked towards the door. Dean followed at his heels.

 

“So are you going to open them now?” Dean asked once they had gotten outside. The difference between outside and inside the shop was astonishing. The air here was fresher, crisper, and not heavy with body heat and sugary sweets. It was a nice change.

 

“No.”

 

“Wait, so you made me rush in there with you to get the last ones, but you aren’t even going to open the damn packages now?”

 

“Yes.” Castiel said nothing more and started walking back towards the castle.

 

“And you aren’t even going to enjoy the rest of the day out here?” Dean grabbed the other boy’s wrist and spun him around so they were facing each other.

 

Castiel turned around. “Why would I?’ He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve done what I came here to do. Plus, you paid for everything, which was very kind. Thank you.” He smirked.   
  
“No,” Dean protested. “You paid for the drinks.”

 

Castiel bit his bottom lip, which shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but _damn._ “How sure of that are you?”

 

Dean let out a slew of curses as he checked his pockets. Sure enough, he only had a sickle left, which didn’t add up because the chocolate frogs were definitely not that much.

 

Castiel laughed. “You’re too easily distracted, Dean. And way too easy to pickpocket.”

 

“Fuck you,” Dean said, lightly pushing Castiel on the shoulder.

 

“That’s what you get for not getting the snitch in time,” Castiel taunted. He pushed Dean back and continued walking towards the castle.

 

“But you really aren’t going to spend the rest of the day here, out in Hogsmeade?” It seemed ridiculous to Dean. You only get to go here twice a week, yet you decide to spend half of the time back at the castle? “Where was the fun in that?”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel scoffed. “There’s literally nobody in the castle right now. What’s more fun than that?”

 

“I hadn’t really thought about that like that.”

 

“Of course you haven’t, Winchester.” Castiel smirked. “That would require actual brains on your part.” Cas wrapped his fingers around Dean’s wrist, and pulled him forward. “Let’s go. I know the perfect place to enjoy these chocolates in peace.”

 

“Wow, aren’t you eager.”

 

Castiel shot him a mischievous smile. “Of course.”

 

* * *

   


Castiel’s “secret” destination ended up being the Great Lake to the south of the castle. (Dean was pretty sure there were actual merpeople in the lake, but he pushed the thought down.) Since it was a clear day, the water reflected the blue sky above, fluffy white clouds and all. It was actually very nice, until Castiel decided to try to skip a stone across the water and ended up failing miserably, only resulting in a big splash of water and ripples that disturbed the once still lake.

 

“You fucking suck at that, Cas,” Dean said, trying to find a round stone of his own. He found one, dusted it off on his pants and sent it flying. It skipped three times before sinking down into the lake.

 

“How the hell did you do that?” Castiel gaped.

 

Dean winked. “It’s all in the wrist.”

 

“Fuck that shit,” Castiel said. He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed.

 

“You want me to teach you or something?” Dean asked, his amusement barely concealed.

 

“I can do this on my own, Winchester.” Castiel bent down and picked up a rock and flung it across the water as if to prove his point. It sunk on impact.

 

“Ok,” Dean started, because Cas might not have wanted his help, but he sure did need it, “first thing is if you want to have it actually skip, you need a flat rock. Everybody knows that.”

 

“Winchester, I can do this on my own.” Castiel had his hands on his hips, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was the cutest thing he had ever seen. Castiel had turned him into a _fucking girl._

 

“What ever you say, Novak.” Dean winked and tossed a stone over to the other boy.

_A flat stone_. “Try this one.”

 

Cas caught the stone and took a deep breath, concentrating. The site was quite amusing, if Dean was being honest. And if he was being completely truthful, it was also quite adorable. Cas tossed the stone towards the water, and much to both of their surprises, it skipped once before sinking.

 

Cas turned to face Dean, his face spilt into a wide grin. “I told you I didn’t need your help, Winchester.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Dean said, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile, “like having a smooth stone didn’t help at all.”

 

“It was merely an asset. That is all.”

 

“A helpful asset more like it.”

 

Castiel laughed softly, looking over to the stilling water. “Do you remember crossing here during our first year?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Dean said. He moved closer towards the other boy. It seemed natural, to gravitate towards him. Dean didn’t put much thought to his actions. “It was cold that night too. Windy and everything.”

 

“I thought my boat was going to topple over,” Castiel admitted. “Didn’t help that I had the biggest dicks on my boat that liked to stand up and sit back down quickly just to rock the boat.”

 

“On my boat we were all just scared that we weren’t going to make it to the other side to do anything. I’m pretty sure the girl sitting next to my cried. It’s actually kind of funny thinking back about it.”

 

“We actually did end up toppling over,” Castiel admitted. “Right before we hit the shore, one of the boys decided to jump and the he landed on the side of the boat, causing it to tip it over and spill all of us into the lake. The water was freezing.”

 

“That’s actually pretty fucking hilarious, Cas.”

 

“No it wasn’t, Winchester,” Cas shot back, but his voice wasn’t as harsh as it usually was. “I was terrified. I didn’t know how to swim at the time. And imagine trying to swim when one, you don’t know how to, and two, when you’re wearing huge cloaks that just weigh you down.” The blue-eyed boy took a deep breath. “But it actually was pretty funny considering the water was only waist-high.”

 

“You’re such a dork, Cas.” Dean said, bumping shoulders with the other boy.

 

Cas turned his head to face Dean and smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling in a way that made Dean sigh slightly. Castiel blushed and looked down to his shoes, suddenly finding something interesting in the way that he had tied his shoelaces that day.

 

A silence fell between them, not exactly uncomfortable, but not really welcomed either. It was as if both boys wanted to say something but were holding their tongue, waiting for the other to talk first.

 

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t a wizard?” Castiel asked, finding his voice after the silence. “Like, if you were a muggle attending a regular school and not a magical at all?”

 

“Yeah, actually, a lot,” Dean replied. His voice was a lot smaller than he would have liked to admit. “For a while I thought I was a squib. Didn’t put much thought into the fact that I wasn’t showing any magical qualities until Sammy made his apple explode when he was 5. He wanted apple sauce, I guess.”

 

Castiel didn’t say anything so Dean went on. “And then I got thinking, _what if I’m not magical?_ And I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be too bad, ya know? Muggle life isn’t exactly the best, but it sure ain’t the worst. I was just so worried that my mom wouldn’t accept me. That she would look down on me because I wasn’t magical like her. “

 

Castiel’s hand found the other boy’s and he gently interlaced their fingers, squeezing slightly. Dean squeezed back and let his fingers fall limp out of the Slytherin’s grasp. “But then I turned ten and I accidentally lit my mom’s curtains on fire. My letter came a year later. Guess you know the rest of the story.” Dean rocked back and forth on his heels and put his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to hold the other boy’s hand. Dean knew that Cas had just grabbed his hand as an act of kindness, but Dean couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t let go.

 

“No, I really don’t,” Castiel said. “I really don’t know anything about you, Dean. Other than the fact that your last name is Winchester, you have a brother named Sam that is a first year here, you have a mother and a father, you’re a seeker for the Gryffindor house, and you’re the biggest ass I have ever met.” Cas smiled slightly. “You’re a mystery, Dean.”

 

“You make me sound weird, Cas,” Dean said, and no, he was not blushing. Surely not.

 

“I’m just stating things how they are.” Cas shrugged and turned his head to face back towards the water. Their shoulders brushed against each other’s once more.

 

“Well if I’m a mystery than you’re an enigma.”

 

“Those two terms literally mean the same thing, Winchester.”

 

“So? Enigma sounds cooler.”

 

“Are you implying that I’m cooler than you are?” Castiel kicked a rock into the water and it sunk with a small splash. The ripples distorted their reflections, twisting their forms into unrecognizable shapes. “Never thought I’d see the day where Dean Winchester, the greatest seeker Gryffindor house has ever seen, actually admit that someone is cooler than him.”

 

“Now you’re just messing with my words.”

 

“You’re the ones who said them in the first place.”

 

“Asshole,” Dean said, digging his elbow into the side of the other boy.

 

“Ow!” Cas exclaimed. He tried punching Dean in the arm but Dean caught his fist, wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s knuckles. Castiel huffed, eyes rolling, but let his grip loosen in Dean’s hands. And then there they were, holding hands again.

 

This time Cas let go first, letting his hands fall to his side silently. “Still uncreative, I see.”

 

“Asshole,” Dean just murmured again. Castiel shook his head, irritated, but Dean caught the traces of a smile outlining the other boy’s lips.


End file.
